


Raining. Cats & Dogs.

by theRougeChevalier



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 101 dalmations - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Sherlock and John as pets!, Super Flirty behavior, Young Greg, Young Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theRougeChevalier/pseuds/theRougeChevalier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade is alone in the world but for his four legged pal Watson. Mycroft Holmes is doomed to forever chase after his wayward cat Sherlock. Perhaps the chase is better done together? </p>
<p>My good friend greenkangaroo challenged me during a particularly boring day to amuse myself by writing a Mystrade with a 101 Dalmatians reminiscent meeting with Sherlock and John as the pets.  And I had way too much fun with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raining. Cats & Dogs.

**Author's Note:**

> The only warnings you need are that there is some serious flirting going on with Greg and Mycroft. Its so fluffy you'll die! Or get cavities, whichever comes first.

It was yet another overcast day in London, nothing unusual about that, but the air wasn’t heavy with liquid as it normally would be. Constable Lestrade was strolling home in the early morning hours of a pleasantly cool fall saturday after a long night on the beat. He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. Between studying for his criminal investigator exams and pulling what seemed like never ending night shifts that either ended with him guarding crime scenes or scraping drunken belligerents off the walk he was very short on quality sleep. He had every intention of collapsing into bed the moment he got back to his flat, but then as he opened the door he was greeted with a familiar bark and a tiny tail wag. ‘Watson’ he thought with a smile and a sigh. “Hey buddy”, he said kneeling down to scratch the ears of the sandy colored corgi whom he had adopted on a whim almost 5 months earlier, because he couldn’t bear to let him go. They had been through an ordeal together and to Lestrade that were as good as brother’s in arms and no matter that his schedule wasn’t exactly conducive to pet ownership Lestrade wouldn’t leave a brother behind. 

 

“You want to go out boy?” He asked. 

 

Watson barked in reply and spun around before latching onto Greg’s sleeve with his tiny teeth and dragging him bent over into the kitchen where he released him to carefully use his doggy step stool to jump up and nose on the coffee maker. Greg laughed and gave Watson another pat, “Alright boy, coffee then a walk hmm?” Watson barked happily in response and Lestrade thought that they together they could get by just fine. 

 

*~*~ 

 

Meanwhile across the city another hard working man was just getting home from a long night of keeping the peace. Mycroft Holmes allowed himself a sigh as he unlocked the door to his townhouse he would never admit it aloud, but it had been a harrowing few days, but the crisis in the Middle East had been alleviated or at least temporarily mollified and he had managed to impress his boss which could only help his upward trajectory in the agency. Now he was looking at the first free weekend he had had in weeks and he was looking forward to a real and full sleep. However it would seem his cat had a different idea…

 

As soon as he opened the door a black streak came flying out and off down the street diving into the first hedge. 

 

“Sherlock!” Mycroft yelled after him, indignant. He sighed again and dropped his briefcase on his side table in the foyer and picked up the cat leash heading off down the street after his wayward pet. 

 

*~*~ 

 

Fresh coffee in one hand and leash in the other Greg led Watson through the park. It was still early enough on a saturday that there weren’t many other park goers. Greg smiled sadly as Watson limped along beside him. Poor Watson had always limped since the day he assisted Greg on a case shortly after Greg first found him, the vet said there was probably a pinched nerve in his back leg that didn’t allow Watson movement to the appendage. The vet had advised Greg just to have the leg amputated and allow Watson to learn to walk on three legs, but Greg could not force himself to do it, because he felt like that would be giving up on Watson and even though he limped and was generally a very mellow dog he tried valiantly to walk and play like all the other dogs at the dog park. 

 

No he wouldn’t give up on him…

 

He found a bench along the path near the pond and stopped to give Watson a break and to sip his coffee. When down the path he caught sight of an odd looking black cat with white front paws lurking along the water’s edge. The cat was skinny and long with a skinny face and large ears, but a curly coat of black fur that even from a distance looked matted from the cat’s adventures on the water bank. He was accosting all the ducks and frogs in his general vicinity. Watson who seemed caught up in watching the movements of the strange feline made a strange noise in befuddlement. “Odd to see a stray in this part of town?” Greg thought to himself. “Looks a bit fancy to be stray though…” There was a pull on the lease and he looked down to see Watson creeping towards the cat in dog stealth mode. “Watson!” Greg reprimanded not wanted Watson to attack the cat. Never had there been any interaction between Watson and cats in the time Greg had had him and he didn’t want to find out if Watson was belligerent towards them. Watson froze at the reprimand and lowered his head, but never took his eyes off the strange cat. 

 

The cat had heard Greg’s command as well and now had its ears perked straight up at the noise and turned its head to reveal strange silver eyes that would have been unsettling if it weren’t for the fur on its neck and head standing up at crazy angles due to the matted dirt and water on its fur. Greg had to chuckle as the cat was in quite the state, wet and dirty fur all askew. If it were possible for a cat to look offended that is how Greg would describe the look he was receiving, but the cat did not give him much notice overall, it seemed more concerned with Watson. It slunk closer and stood no less than 3 feet from Watson, wary, but not nervous, he almost looked, intrigued? Greg thought. Greg watched curiously as the two quadrupeds regarded each other seeming to have a conversation with eye, head, and ear movements alone. 

 

Greg being overtired and lacking in human companionship decided to tease for a bit. “Who’s your friend Watson?” He asked playfully taking another sip of his coffee intending to check the cat for id if he came close enough. As he sipped the cat moved closer to Watson and then unexpectedly leapt up on the bench. Greg swallowed quickly a bit surprised by the movement. “Well hello there?” He said. The cat regarded him strangely looking at Watson and then back to him before cocking his head to the side and squinting. Then his paw shot out to swipe lightly at his leg. Watson whined at this a little and the cat gave a strange noise somewhat between a purr and a growl staring down at Watson for a moment as though to get some point across before turning and rubbing his head against Greg’s arm. Greg smiled and curled his fingers around to scratch the cat’s ears. The cat twitched before flopping dramatically down on Greg’s leg. Greg laughed again and moved to scratching his belly, the cat seemed pleased, but his eyes were still firmly planted on Watson. 

 

“You’re not jealous are you Watson?” Greg teased setting his coffee down on the ground and used his now free hand to pet Watson’s neck. Again both pets responded passively to the pat down, but continued to converse with each other through their eyes. Greg raised his eyebrows. “The question is who are you jealous of?” Greg pondered aloud before moving both hands to try and pick the leaves and grass from the the cat’s thick curly fur. The cat pawed at him and wiggled to try to get away, but Greg was deft at his task. 

 

That was when he heard the scuff of shoes coming down the path a moment before he heard an out of breath voice calling out, “Sherlock! Sherlock! Where are you?” Greg looked up to find a strikingly handsome man who would have been enchantingly dapper even for his obviously flustered and unkempt appearance coming towards him, small leash in hand, looking exasperatedly to the left and right, his eyes having not yet alighted on Greg. 

 

Greg still holding the cat smirked and looked down at the cat. “So that’s where you belong?” He observed. ‘You lucky bugger.’ He thought to himself. 

 

The cat seemed to recognize the voice and twitched trying to escape Greg’s hold, even trying to claw him, but Greg held fast. “Hey you little bugger! That’s enough!” He chastised. His voice drew the eyes of the man who sagged in relief at seeing his errant cat in the hands of...oh a simply charming looking young man. He shook his head. “Sherlock! There you are!” He said. “Thank you so much for finding him.” He said beaming as he quickly made his way towards Greg and harnessed the cat ignoring all hissing and clawing protests. Once harnessed the cat went limp against the bench defeated and detained once more. Task complete both men finally took a moment to look one another in the eye and for a moment the world stood still for them both. 

 

Mycroft snapped out of it first and looked to Sherlock sheepishly. “How did you manage to catch him? Sherlock doesn’t normally like people.” 

 

Greg smiled flashing two perfect shimmering rows of pearly whites at him. “Really?” He quirked an eyebrow. “He came right up to me. Although I think that had more to do with Watson than me.” He motioned to the corgi who had sat quiet throughout the whole ordeal now looking curiously between the cat and its servant/master. 

 

Mycroft looked down at the corgi, eyes widening before hesitantly kneeling to put a hand out to Watson to sniff. Watson sniffed and growled a little before being shushed by Greg and then sniffing once more gently nosing the hand. Mycroft smiled and moved his hand to scratch Watson behind the ears, quickly finding Watson’s favorite spot. “Good boy” He whispered to the dog as he scratched him, Watson now happily reveling in his attention, much to Sherlock’s chagrin. He finally rose from his sulk to paw at Mycroft’s hands all, but falling on them to stop him from petting Watson. “Sherlock what are you doing?” Mycroft questioned taking him in hand and took up where Greg left off trying to groom him. 

 

“It seems they like each other.” Greg observed of the pets, but his eyes were glued to the aristocratic set of the face of his handsome cat loving stranger. Mycroft nodded watching their reactions carefully, “Sherlock, being a Cornish Rex has always been a bit more like a dog, than a…” Before he could finish his explanation he looked up and met Greg’s eyes again, such a pretty green and the world narrowed once more and he trailed off before simply adding, “It would certainly seem that they do…” 

 

“Maybe we should arrange play dates for them?” Greg offered hopefully his eyes twinkling with delight and just a bit of mischief. Greg thought perhaps it was the most pathetically indirect way of asking the gorgeous gent on a date, but he didn’t know anything about the man, not even his name, the direct route may scare him off. 

 

Mycroft stared at him and his eyebrows rose minutely in shock. Mycroft was an expert at reading people so there was no way he could be misreading the veiled invitation behind the look in Greg’s eyes, but Mycroft couldn’t allow himself to believe that such a handsome specimen of man was one, not only gay, but two, interested in someone like him. Mycroft may be confident in his work, but had never had much luck with personal relationships and thus was at a loss. 

 

“I...I..My work doesn’t leave me much free time….” He excused lamely stuttering all the while. 

 

Sherlock who had been occupied by Watson for most of the exchange now fixed his silver eyes on Mycroft and if Sherlock were capable of expressions Mycroft would say he was making a face of distinct displeasure at present. And a look at the dog’s face showed a pair of sad eyes reflected there. Mycroft looked back up to find a similar look in the eyes of the handsome stranger. He felt like the lowest of life forms. The man kept his face neutral, but his eyes betrayed him. 

 

“Oh...well. That’s fine, its the same for me actually, but maybe we’ll see each other round the park again?” Greg ventured now awkwardly standing taking up Watson’s leash. He was disappointed, but of course such a gorgeous posh bloke as this wouldn’t be interested in someone like him. ‘Or maybe he really is just busy you twit, its not like you asked him out outright’ Greg chastised himself for feeling things for a complete stranger. 

 

Watson now looked quizzically between his master and the cat’s master/servant. 

 

“Come on Watson.” Greg calls pulling on his leash to lead him away. He only takes a step before he forces himself to remember his manners even in the face of rejection. “It was nice meeting you…” He trails off a small smile fighting its way to the surface as he waits for the beautiful man to at least supply him with his name. ‘A consolation prize for my dreams’, he thinks. 

 

Mycroft’s mind had been flailing about unsuccessfully for something to say to salvage the situation as it quickly became clear the man was interested, so interested his disappointment was palpable and now he was leaving. “Mycroft.” He supplied automatically to the query as he had nothing else to say. 

 

“Mycroft,” the fit man repeated and Mycroft thought his name had never sounded better. “Greg.” He said addressing himself before putting his hand out. Mycroft eagerly took it and found his hand being shaken in a firm decidedly attractive grip of a calloused palm. ‘’Gregory….’ His mind sighs as deductions fly through his brain at the one touch from the man and its one of those rare times that Mycroft meets someone whom his deductions draw him to not repel him from. ‘Working class, civil service, most likely police going from the calluses on his hand.’ Instantly he felt more the fool for indirectly rejecting the man. ‘Stupid.’ He thought as Gregory smiled softly and said, “Nice to meet you Mycroft.” Before turning and leading Watson away. 

 

Sherlock protested the action with a flail in Mycroft’s hands attempting to skitter off after the corgi, but Mycroft had a tight grip on the leash and was able to pull the wayward feline to a stop. “That’s enough Sherlock.” He chastised, although it sounded half hearted to his own ears. The cat continued to strain against his leash until Gregory and Watson were out of sight he turned back to Mycroft with a look of utter disdain before swatting a paw at him threateningly. The cat sniffed and then pulled the leash as he walked a wide arc around Mycroft leading him in the opposite direction, towards their home. “I know.” Mycroft soothed himself and the irritated pet out loud. “I know.” He whispered. 

 

*~*~*~*~

 

Not three days later Greg had just returned home from a long shift, a night shift that had turned into a double, to find his neighbor, Mrs. Hudson, standing outside his door wringing her hands fretfully. “What’s the matter Mrs. Hudson?” He asked concern in his voice and in his eyes. 

 

“Oh dear Greg, I’m so sorry. I was taking Watson for a walk earlier as you requested and Watson started barking and it gave me such a fright, he rarely barks so, that I let go of the leash and he tore off down the street after a cat. I’ve looked everywhere for him and I can’t find him anywhere.” She fretted looking positively contrite. 

 

Greg’s eyes widened and in true Yarder form jumped straight to action. He ran inside and grabbed Watson’s spare leash comforting Mrs. Hudson as best he could whilst he hurried back out in search of his wayward corgi. 

 

It was so unlike Watson to act up let alone run. With his limp he was scarcely able to fetch let alone chase cats. And Watson had never seemed the type to get that overly excited about other animals to actually chase one. Before his injury he’d seen Watson chase down a felon, but never since. And the fact that he had not returned to the flat was even more strange. 

 

But then again it had been a strange three days as far as his dog was concerned, whenever Greg was home he found Watson sitting near the door or staring out the window, head occasionally perking up at a noise, as if he were waiting for something or someone. He had been down right sullen except for when they went for a walk then he was almost exuberant until they returned to the flat and Watson seemed confused and reluctant to go back in doors. Greg had chalked it up to his own neglect of his dog, and that Watson really hated being cooped up indoors so much, that’s why he had arranged for Mrs. Hudson to walk him today, but it seemed that idea too had backfired. 

 

Greg hurried down the street following the route he normally took Watson out for walks. Looking behind every trash bin, every hedge, and tree calling out for him as he did. He hoped Watson wasn’t lost in some unfamiliar part of the city, or worse hit by a car. He tried to quash his worries, knowing Watson was a sturdy little dog, a survivor and he had a collar which would insure his return should any respectable citizens manage to find him. 

 

Meanwhile across town…

 

Mycroft had actually arrived home at a decent hour and stood quietly in the foyer sorting his mail. He heard no noise in the house which wasn’t completely unusual, but always improbable and unsettling, especially given the nature of his pet. 

 

He tossed the mail down on the side table and moved around the house looking for Sherlock, he wasn’t in any of the usual places and Mycroft began to suspect, something was not right, and sure enough he came into the kitchen to find the window slightly ajar, a hole clawed in the outer screen. Mycroft was equal parts annoyed and impressed. Only his cat could figure out how to open a window and then have the tenacity to claw through a window screen to get out. Mycroft allowed a moment to wonder to himself if they made cat proof locking mechanisms as he scooped up Sherlock’s leash and headed out in search of his cat. 

 

*~*~*~*~

 

Greg had just reached the street adjacent to the park, he was starting to feel frantic, no sign of Watson anywhere, he was starting to think he would have to call the pound or put up missing dog posters. He was so distracted by his thoughts he almost ran into a man coming down the street. They’re shoulders bumped forcefully and Lestrade stumbled back, “S..Sorry.” He stammered out until his eyes alighted on the face of the man he had nearly run down. He would know those blue/grey eyes anywhere “Mycroft?” He questioned aloud. 

 

Mycroft had been so annoyed about Sherlock’s second escape attempt this week on a day when Mycroft actually had time to relax, he wandered a little to the left on the sidewalk and ran right into another pedestrian. “Terribly sorry…” He began his automatic string of mannerly apologies when the man said his name. He looked up into the familiar rugged face that had been featuring in his dreams for the last three nights. “Greg…!” He had to forcibly stop himself from saying Gregory as he had fantasized calling him both in his waking and sleeping hours. 

 

He heard him say his name in question and his heart skipped a beat simply at hearing him say his name. “I…” He started to stutter, not really knowing what to say a rarity for Mycroft Holmes, but Greg seemed to have that singular ability and beat him to it. 

 

“Mycroft, its good to see you, but have you seen Watson by any chance around here today?” He said a little quickly obviously distracted and licking his lips in anxiousness. Mycroft was distracted himself, by the movement for all of a second until his mind registered that Watson was missing. 

 

Mycroft blinked and said, “Watson is missing?” Still obviously getting his mental bearings. 

 

Greg nodded before running a hand through his hair. “Yeah my neighbor was walking him and he slipped his leash to run after some cat! It’s so unlike him.” He said sounding distant and concerned. 

 

“Cat…?” Mycroft asked slowly his brain snapping quickly to the likely conclusion. “Gregor...Greg, Sherlock escaped the house earlier today.” 

 

Greg froze at the words and his piercing green eyes met Mycroft’s. “You don’t think….?” 

 

Mycroft shook his head, “I do, as I said before Sherlock is very clever, and if he managed to open a window and claw out a screen I have no doubt he somehow managed to track down Watson.” 

 

Greg chuckled a little his tension still apparent, but sliding away every moment he spent in Mycroft’s calming presence. “Yeah I did say they seemed attached...but they didn’t have to run away together…” 

 

“Agreed” Mycroft said with a decisive nod and a sympathetic look. As the two men stood there on the street in solidarity of mutual annoyance, exasperation, fondness, and concern for their wayward pets, the sky opened up and a steady rain fell upon London. Mycroft opened his ever present umbrella and offered it to Greg who didn’t seem to have brought one in his haste to find his dog. They both huddled under the large umbrella and Mycroft felt a tad guilty at how he enjoyed the closeness and greedily sought a way to keep it. “Listen, there is no point in either of us searching in the rain, and if Sherlock had enough sense to seek out Watson I’m sure he also has enough sense to know to return home in the rain. I don’t live far from here, you are welcome to come and have some tea and get out of the rain as well….” He ended on a hopeful and hesitant note. 

 

Greg who hadn’t taken his eyes off Mycroft since he offered to share his umbrella smiled lightly, “I would like that, thanks very much.” As they turned and began to walk side by side up the walk Greg added jovially, “Besides I don’t have much choice, you’re the one with the brolly, I go where you go.” Mycroft allowed himself a smirk at the joke and wished wholeheartedly those words were said in a very different context. And perhaps, now that he wasn’t being obtuse or defensive, they could be….

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was shocking how easy conversation came to the two men after that, as they walked and when they made it to Mycroft’s to now as they sat in the kitchen chatting companionably over tea. They talked about everything, their pets, their likes, their favorite tea, their careers. 

 

The conversation flowed naturally and many things became clear as they revealed more about one another through the conversation. 

 

“You’re a detective?” Mycroft asked intrigued, he had deduced he was police, but now after having spoken with the man for more than 5 minutes it had become apparent that Greg was so much more than a ‘bobby’. He was an intelligent, passionate, and driven man dedicated to justice. A civil servant dedicated to the public good as much as and possibly even more so than himself. 

 

“Yes, but just a constable at the moment, I take my exams soon to move up to inspector.” 

 

Mycroft’s eyebrows went up and he couldn’t help but speak his thoughts, “Quite impressive.” 

 

Greg grinned giddy and proud that Mycroft admired his line of work, “And you? You said your work kept you pretty busy?” 

 

“We are in a similar business you and I. I too am a civil servant ...of a different variety.” Obviously he couldn’t say much as to the exact nature of his career goals and expectations, but he had never felt so comfortable with another person and he did want to show off a little if he was honest. 

 

Greg once again proved his intelligence as his eyebrows raised and his grin became lopsided as he eyed his dashingly posh companion. 

 

“I see….” Was all he said at first and then leaned forward dangerously into Mycroft’s personal space. “Is this the part where you tell me your real name is Bond, and that if you tell me anything more about your profession you’d have to kill me?” He teased his grin suddenly flirtatious, wolfish even. It sent a flame running throughout Mycroft’s entire body and he fought hard not to blush. 

 

“Well certainly nothing that exciting.” He said trying to sound nonchalant, but he couldn’t help his answering grin before replying, “Besides... there are other ways of keeping a man from talking.” 

 

He had entered dangerous waters with his double entendre he knew, but he had to know if Gregory felt the same. 

 

The reaction was rousing to say the least, Greg’s eyes darkened and dilated in lust at the words, and he leaned in even closer, his grin remained, but had softened a little, “I’d let you silence me anytime.” He whispered leaning in to steal a kiss. Mycroft moaned aloud at the very prospect, but before their lips could meet they heard a commotion and some barking coming from the back yard. They stilled, eyes wide and then pulled apart. 

 

Greg pulled open the back door to find Watson and Sherlock playing in the mud in the garden. Watson enthusiastically barking and chasing the cat who bounded this way and that always agily avoiding the stubby dog. 

 

“Watson!” “Sherlock!” The two shouted in unison rushing down the stairs and intending to scoop up their wayward animals, but the ground was slippery with mud and slick with rain and the animals in their playful mood purposefully alluded them until both men ended up entangled in a muddy heap on the lawn. Greg was laughing hysterically from his position flat on his back with Mycroft half a top him. Mycroft had blushed at first at their predicament and had been moments away from a full on bluster when Greg broke the tension with his laughter, Mycroft readily joined him and as they both lay there laughing like fools Mycroft looked to the side to see the two pets now sitting quietly next to each other with what he could only guess were animal grins on their faces, watching their humans in the mud with quizzical expressions. “Look.” Greg said nodding to the two pets. 

 

At that moment Sherlock decided to lean his head against Watson’s leg and rub it contentedly. 

 

Mycroft’s heart clenched at the adorable sight. “You were right, they seem very attached….” 

 

When he looked down Greg’s eyes were firmly on him. “Yes they do, there will be no separating them. Now that they’re successful partners in crime. Sherlock is aware he can escape and Watson can run again…” Greg grinned as his hands moved to wrap around Mycroft’s waist and Mycroft gasped at the feeling pleasantly surprised by Greg’s bold move. 

 

“Perhaps we should organize some play dates for them so this doesn’t happen again?” Greg finished with an expectant smile knowing that this time his question could not be mistaken and that nothing could go amiss. 

 

“Indeed.” Mycroft answered with a grin leaning down to finally get his first kiss from Gregory. 

‘First of many’ He thought hopefully as they kissed, oblivious to the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. This fic can be a stand alone, I may add a chapter from the animals point of view and an epilogue, because I am a sucker for the happily ever afters. Time permitting of course. But for the interim, please enjoy, show your interest and I'll do my best to give you more! Thanks for reading.


End file.
